Serendipity, and Sadhappy Endings.

January 30th, 2011 | Author: Lori

A week has passed since what would have been my Mom’s birthday.

I usually write on the anniversaries of the one’s that I have lost, particularly those of my parents. I don’t always write about them, but I always write. Last Sunday, I did not write.

I didn’t have to.
Someone else did.

My cyber-sister Annie Q. Syed wrote on my Mom’s birthday. I highly recommend that if you’re not familiar with Annie that you head on over to her home on the web and check out her work. Last Sunday, Annie posted one of her Still Sundays posts; a dedication each week of sorts, to the peace that only seems to come from waking before the light and experiencing the first soft sighs of a Sunday morning.

Annie’s post on the morning of January 23rd wasn’t about my Mom; it was Annie’s usual meandering mellifluousness. However, what I read there satisfied any need that I had to write for myself.

Serendipity is a reminder that it’s all connected. It doesn’t matter whether I am the ghost or am watching ghosts, it’s all connected. ~ a.q.s

Early this morning, I was rummaging through some of my Mother’s papers. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I was just moving my fingers over the pen scratches on the various bits of paper that she had accumulated. A scrap here with a few words she wanted to look up; a rumpled bit with a few lines of poetry on it.

As I moved my hands through the notes of her life, an index card fell to my feet. I smiled. She carried index cards in her wallet at all times to capture her thoughts. Mostly, they’d have made no sense to anyone but her, and she was fine with that. I – quite happily – have inherited this trait from her.

I picked up the card at my feet and looked at the date.
It was dated the night she died.

I turned the card over in my hand while the memories of that night fell over me. She must have written it after I left her bedside. The handwriting was hers, and yet also not hers; the drugs had already begun to take their effect. Though the handwriting may have been slightly unclear, the message certainly wasn’t.

Jack;
Hold me tonight as I fall asleep. Finally, my dreams will bring you back to me. I will see you soon. I love you.

It was signed only with a “D”, in Mom’s beautiful flourish.

It doesn’t matter whether I am the ghost, or I am watching the ghosts.
We are all connected.

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Posted in Personal |

Tags: mom

http://dinarozellebarnett.blogspot.com/ Dina

Wow. That was long.
Thanks for the podium.
Lol.

http://shesawake.com loripop326

i will happily hand my podium over to you any old time you wish, Dina.

http://dinarozellebarnett.blogspot.com/ Dina

=) Me, too.

http://dinarozellebarnett.blogspot.com/ Dina

Lori,

I was moved by The Moon and St. Christopher, a little more than seemed usual for me (it IS a beautiful piece), but then I remembered that I’ve been in hiding. Again. It’s what I do. This morning I crawled out of my ground hog’s hole squinting and tucking my head, bracing for the more-brightness-than-I-really-want, but it was cloudy. No need to cringe against the light; the sky has me covered. Guess that means spring will be coming soon to my life, but not right now. And that suits me just fine.

I read on to Serendipity and Sadhappy Endings. That’s when it hit me:

the date of The Moon and St. Christopher
the fact that I’m still running from the hands of kindness
the date of your mother’s death and the note from your mother/yourself
today’s date
why I have tears in my eyes.

Today is the 5th. Jose’s birthday is the 8th. Was the 8th. It’s been so long since he died that I no longer register that day in advance. Now it just hits me out of the blue, like sudden sun.

I haven’t been writing, not on paper, but in my head the words are a jumble of desire piled up against a locked door. They’re all about love and why I love men that others deem unsuitable; I don’t feel the need to do what’s expected, only what’s expected of me by my heart. So, once again, I love a man who lights me up in every way but whose life choices bring silent disapproval from friends and family. Once again I’m bracing. And now it’s Jose’s birthday, too.

Ah… so that’s why I’m in hiding.

Thanks for opening the damn door, hon. I’ve landed in a whining, wet dog of a heap on the other side, but whatever. I’m here.

And now I’m late for a job that I need, which has become a burden, and from which I will be taking my leave… just after I get another round of crap for not being and doing what is expected. Perhaps I’ll tell the boss lady I’ve had a death in the family, make my exit, and quit on another day.

Sending you inarticulated thank yous, plus lots of wet dog hugs,
Dina

http://shesawake.com loripop326

Dina;

i have avoided replying to this comment. my reasons have nothing to do with you, and nothing to do with your comment. the have everything to do with the thought of what you went through with Jose.

i can’t bear that thought. i can’t bear the pain that even a hint of that thought brings me. it is unimaginable to me, what you went through. what you still go through.

knowing – and i mean knowing from experience – what you and Jose had, what you shared, the kind of friendship that you experienced… and then losing it? unfathomable.

your strength is astounding to me. if i had to face that, i’m not sure that i would be able to continue to breathe.

except that she would expect me to.

and would probably haunt me for the rest of my fucking life if i didn’t.

keep breathing, Dina. i’m not willing to not have you in my life, either.

just saying.

and thank you for reminding me that every now and again, i need to call my best friend up and thank her for being… the other part of me.

*very big hugs*

Doug Dowen

Quite touching, absolutely moving… I bow to you, ma’am!

http://shesawake.com Lori

thank you, Doug

http://www.anniesyed.com annie q. syed

For many different reasons, Lori, this sentence of yours stays with me and may find its way into a short story one day soon, “I – quite happily – have inherited this trait from her.” The gifts one’s parents has/had and was made to feel they were not gifts or had to live them as explanation, we have a choice to take off where they left and integrate them without a thought to whether it is or isn’t ‘normal’. That is the real gift here I think.

Thanks for sharing this experience.

annie

http://shesawake.com Lori

annie… there are many, many traits that i have picked up from my rather eccentric mother. traits that she may not have been able to show proudly, but that in her honour i try to display wherever possible. she had a true appreciation for the insanity of life, and was always willing to add to it in the most delightful ways. thank you, annie. it for nothing else, than for also adding to the insanity of my life

http://xwidep.com xwidep

both lovely.

http://shesawake.com Lori

thank you Phil

http://www.xn3art.wordpress.com naomi

I am so grateful, Lori, to have discovered your beautiful words and meditations here. This post is so touching. I am so moved to have such gifted writers like you and Annie Q. Syed in my stream whose spirit of tenderness and understandings move me to meditate on the wonders of what is. Thank you for sharing!
~ naomi ~

http://shesawake.com Lori

naomi, i am so pleased that you have found something here that has touched you. i feel the same about your art
thank you for your visit, and for your wonderful comment!

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Shultzyness

Chills and…just, wow.

http://shesawake.com Lori

D! it’s always so good to see you here. and anywhere for that matter
thank you for sharing the wow!

http://www.anniesyed.com annie q. syed

Dear Lori,

I hope you understand I really don’t have words for such serendipity right now. But I will return when I do and soon (I move fast).

The serendipity is indeed incredible and so very fitting.

Grateful for the connection.

Deep gratitude,

~a.

http://shesawake.com Lori

annie, you never have to explain anything to me.
grateful for you.

http://www.mianorthwest.blogspot.com Mia Northwest

It’s the things left behind…

It’s certainly serendipitous to think about how you weren’t supposed to see that card and that message until early this morning. I can’t help but wonder why but you probably already know. Peace. peace.

http://shesawake.com Lori

mia;

there have always been questions in my mind about my mom’s suicide. to have those questions unequivocally answered at a time when i needed them answered was the serendipity for me

thank you for your comment and for sharing the moment with me